


A Perfect Penance

by magickmoons



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Dark, M/M, Porn Battle, Season/Series 05, Self-Denial, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickmoons/pseuds/magickmoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gunn and Wesley take their relationship to an unusual place after Fred's death</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfect Penance

**Author's Note:**

> written to Porn Battle XIV prompt: Angel the Series, Charles Gunn/Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, penance
> 
> References to canon character death

Gunn had never let himself be taken like this. He never let anyone in, on any level, always kept the walls up. Except once. But here he was, laid out like a rag doll under Wesley, grunting at each jarring thrust of Wesley's cock up his ass.

"Harder," he panted, bracing an arm against the wall, burying his face into the mattress, shifting his body to leverage himself back to feel that pressure deep within him. Deeper and harder than Wesley was entirely comfortable with.

But this wasn't about comfort, not in any traditional sense of the word, never had been since that first, punishing fuck when they fumbled each other’s clothes off, when he had swallowed Wesley’s cock and he had come in record time, choking Gunn with the bitter fluid. It was about shoring up their emotional resources to bear yet another unbearably empty day. It was about channeling the dark, cold emptiness so that no one else would end up as collateral damage.

Wesley changed his angle and pistoned his hips, slamming against Gunn's ass and thighs. His hand crept around Gunn’s hip and found his dick, hot and hard and leaking. He closed his fist, jerking Gunn in tight, urgent pulls. Wesley’s breath was loud and harsh in the nearly empty room.

Something wet hit Gunn's back - could be sweat, he didn't look back to be sure - and he clenched tightly around Wesley’s cock, increasing the friction. He was rewarded when Wesley's pounding rhythm stuttered and he froze, moaning his release into Gunn's body, his hand still working desperately up and down Gunn’s cock. “Come, goddammit,” he growled.

Gunn stayed still and silent, the slight lubrication of pre-come not enough to diminish the burning friction of Wesley’s hand. He closed his eyes, relishing the desperation in Wesley’s voice as he ordered, cajoled, begged him to come, until finally, with a disgusted groan, Wesley wrenched away from him, pushed off the bed, and left without another word.

He laid there in the darkness, his whole body quivering on the edge of orgasm and he groaned in tortured satisfaction. Wesley had done his job well; he always did.

Gunn hadn't come since Fred died, would never come again if he had his way. It was a perfect penance: for Gunn, who had set the wheels of her death in motion; and for Wesley, who hadn't been smart enough to save her.


End file.
